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I take a few seconds to study him while I’m camouflaged by the crowd. His dark hair is thicker on top and faded on the bottom, like he recently had a trim. His face is smooth and freshly shaven. I can see the strong contours of his jawline since it isn’t hidden beneath his usual scruff, and I’m betting that jaw could cut glass. His clothes are nondescript and nothing special—a simple T-shirt and cargo pants—but he looks like a GQ model standing there, holding his beer. He’s too pretty for this banal college crowd.
Ollie’s with a few of his teammates. He’s laughing at something Charlie said, and it lights up his entire face. Ben Sims, another hockey player and Charlie’s roommate, rounds out the collection of good-looking men.
That’s when I notice all the vultures circling the group. There are no less than a dozen women standing nearby, angling to get closer to the guys. To get closer to Ollie. A couple of the bolder ones walk right up to them, partially blocking my view. A blonde runs her acrylic fingertip along Ollie’s chest, and he watches her beneath hooded eyes. I’ve seen her around before. She’s one of the puck bunnies. I think I’ve even seen her with Ollie a time or two. And I wonder if they’ve hooked up in the past.
He doesn’t push her away. I’m unprepared for the sting that clouds my vision as I watch her touching him. The feeling is irrational and unexpected and something I haven’t felt before. I don’t have some weird claim on Ollie just because we’ve known each other for years, but I’m feeling territorial just the same. She’s standing so close that the tips of her enormous breasts are brushing against his chest. I look away. Someone bumps into me, and I grab the arm of the guy next to me to steady myself when the crowd shifts.
“Sorry,” I say, quickly dropping my hold on him.
He lasciviously runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Don’t be. You can grab on to me anytime, beautiful.”
I study him for a moment, appreciative for the ego boost. He’s a good-looking guy and tempting in a way, but I’m here to meet Connor. Our conversation is cut short anyway when I feel strong hands grip my hips from behind. I glance over my shoulder to see the football stud standing there, pressed up against me.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Connor breathes out. The liquor is heavy on his breath when it blows across my cheek.
“Hey,” I say, spinning around until we’re facing and I’m in his arms.
He leans closer to nuzzle my neck. “It’s about time you got here.”
“Miss me?” I flirt.
“Always,” he answers without hesitation.
Lately, Connor has been more affectionate when I’ve seen him. Affectionate and handsy.
“You wanna get out of here?” he asks huskily.
I narrow my eyes. “No. I just got here.”
He runs his tongue along my neck and nibbles my earlobe. “I want to be alone with you tonight.”
“I’m not ready to leave yet,” I insist. “I want to listen to the band for a while.”
He sighs, seemingly annoyed with my answer, which only irritates me. If the only reason he texted was to hook up, he should’ve waited until later. I got dressed. And I want to listen to the band now.
I’m well aware that Connor is used to getting what he wants with women. I know his reputation even though Ollie thinks I don’t. Although football isn’t as popular as hockey is at Sinclair, all the athletes get their fair share of attention. Especially from the ladies. And the hot wide receiver is obviously not used to women making him wait for what he wants. But I’m not just some girl. And I don’t care who he is; I won’t be pressured by anyone or anything. It only makes me want to run in the opposite direction.
I disentangle from his hold and pull away from him, which only frustrates him more. “I’m going to get a water,” I announce suddenly and spin on my heels without waiting for his response.
It’s ironic that I just got here, and I already need space from him. I’m starting to think this little fling of ours might’ve already run its course.
Why did I change out of my comfy clothes and leave my cozy spot on the couch? Right now, I can’t remember what it was that enticed me out even if I was the third wheel at home.
I snake my way through the people and wait at the edge of the bar. When I look over, Ricky has stepped up next to Connor, and they’re talking with their heads bent together. Connor’s brow is furrowed, but his face relaxes into a sexy grin when he catches my eye, like we weren’t just agitated with each other. He winks.
I look away.
I tense when solid arms land on either side of me while I wait, caging me against the bar. My breath hitches when the familiar scent of spice and soap surrounds me, announcing Ollie’s arrival. I shiver as he brushes against my skin, but I instantly feel more at ease with him around.
“Carlson again?” he demands without preamble.
I turn until my back is pinned against the mahogany surface. Ollie doesn’t move away, and he doesn’t shift his arms. We’re barely touching, but he’s standing close, and every inch of me is aware of him. I don’t particularly like the effect he has on me these days.
“Did you come over here to use me again?” I ask instead of answering. “To escape one of the puck bunnies perhaps?”
The corner of his lip twitches, but he maintains a firm straight line.
“The puck bunnies know the drill,” he murmurs.
